The Potion Chatoyante
by run and hide
Summary: PostHogwarts starting with Ch3. The potion Hermione found is more than just a pretty object. It just complicates her life further, especially Draco-wise. HGDM. Read and review please, the plush bunny thanks you.
1. A is for Aggravation

A/N. So here's another fic, slightly more serious than my other attempted ones. I wanted something with an actual plot, which this fic will hopefully satisfy. (Probably not). Anyway, leave any ideas, critique, anything, I'll appreciate it. 

**Chapter 1 - A is for Aggravation**

"Hermione, will you be my partner?" whispered Neville. We were having Potions, and goodness knows he could use all the help he could get. 

_Hell no!_ I wanted to exclaim, but I decided against it. The poor boy was looking so forlorn, so lost... "Fine," I sighed. I got up, walked over to his table, and we began setting up the ingredients to make the Healing Potion. As I reached over to grab some powdered bat wings, I looked up only to see Malfoy staring at me. 

_Hello, Mudblood_, he mouthed. 

That shitbucket. Tired of his immaturity, I made a rude hand gesture towards him. He feigned shock and pretended to be hurt, and I was about to snap a retort when suddenly a black figure loomed above me. 

"Now that was quite rude," Snape murmurmed in his soft, dangerous voice. 

"Professor! ... I... I didn't mean to..." 

"Perhaps she can explain what she _did_ mean to do in detention tonight," quipped Malfoy. 

Snape looked pleased. "Wonderful idea, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said smoothly, "10 points to Slytherin." 

_What the fuck?! That moron got points for getting me in detention?_

"Class is over," announced Snape in a louder voice, then dropping it _slightly_ as he looked down at me, "You will be here, tonight at 7." 

I grunted in response and gathered up my things, stuffing books, quills, and parchments carelessly in the bag. Huffing, I speed-walked out the door, heading for the library. I heard the quick steps of someone behind me, trying to catch up. 

"You know, Granger, maybe you shouldn't have flicked me off," sneered Malfoy, walking quickly by my side. 

"You know, Malfoy," I snarled, "Maybe you shouldn't always be such a _dipshit_." 

He opened his mouth again, but I made a sharp left turn towards the library, snickering at the sight of Malfoy still standing there with his mouth open, about to send me another insult. Cursing under my breath, I walked over to my favorite spot in the library, flipped my books open, and indulged myself in my seemingly endless homework. 

_6:52 pm_

I was never late for anything, let alone detentions. I wanted this to go as smoothly as possible, and with as little insults from the greasy, hook-nosed professor as possible. Turning the corner, I strided into the potions room. Snape was sitting with his feet on his desk, reading some sort of book by candlelight. Seeing me, he shut the book with a snap and lowered his feet off the desk. He seemed shocked, almost. While returning the book to its proper place on the bookshelf, he muttured how it was 7 already. 

Arranging his gaunt, waxy face into his usual cold indifference, he looked down at me and said, "Miss Granger. Perhaps you'd like to spend the next 2 and a half hours mopping the floors and wiping off the tables. If it is not complete, I will allow you to finish tomorrow evening." And without another word, he turned around and disappeared somewhere. 

Snape never said anything about the use of magic. 

10 minutes later, the potions room was sparkling clean, or as sparkling as dungeons can get. _Now what?_ Do I go back to my dorm? Do I jump on the table and line dance until 2 and a half hours are over? I sighed. That Malfoy bastard will pay for wasting 10 minutes of my life. If you do the math, 10 minutes is actually 1/144 of the day... Scowling, I attempted to exit. However, as I charged forward, I noticed I wasn't going anywhere, and instead walking in place. _Uh?_ Then it dawned upon me that that dipshit of a professor had charmed the effing room so I couldn't get _out_ until the time was over. 

Screaming in frustration, I seized my wand and threw it against the wall. Yes, it was that time of the month again, when _anything_ can irk the _hell_ out of me. Looking up again, I realized the wand had not bounced off the wall like the laws of gravity had hoped it would. Holy shit, the wand went through the wall! 

Forgetting my previous anger, I walked cautiously up to the spot where I had thrown my wand. One cannot be too careful. I examined the area carefully, finding... nothing. Nothing but a squashed fly. Ew, squashed fly. Being the prim, neat-freak I was, I took a random spatula lying around and attempted to scrape the fly off the wall. 

However, _surprise_! I ended up on the other side of the wall. Now, as I looked back to where I was squatting, I realized the wall had split open and was now forming a kind of doorway. Secret passageway, oooh. I felt so special. 

So what does one do when one finds oneself in a secret room that wasn't supposed to be discovered? Of course, one looks around. What I saw was a huge shelf, containing vials of all shapes and sizes, each filled with a different colour of clear liquid. What caught my eye, however, was a thin, tall, cylinder-shaped vial containing a kind of iridescent potion, that shimmered and sparkled as I tilted my head. 

How very pretty. 

I took the vial down and shifted it around in my hands, enjoying the coolness of it. Being so completely mesmerized by this potion, I did not see someone coming in the room. 

*************************   
Review, pretty please? You get free sushi if you do. Or if you don't like sushi, you get rainbow stickers.   
If there are any thoughts, I'd love to hear 'em. How _is_ this, anyways? Continue or not? 


	2. B is for Bickering

**Chapter 2 - B is for Bickering **

My first instinct was that it was Snape, coming to check up on my work. And shit, I still had that potion in my hands. Should I hide the potion? Do I run? I stood there in blind panic, knowing I shouldn't be in this room. I looked around helplessly with my heart thumping and palms sweating. But when I looked up, I realized that it was... Malfoy? My hands lost control and the potion dropped. 

The beautiful crystal shattered with such grace; its glass flew in all directions and the iridescent liquid spilled from within, spreading itself across the cold stone floor. 

If I wasn't in this position I would have squatted down and admired the prettiness of the shattered remains. 

_Malfoy's Point of View_

I sat in the Slytherin common room, frustrated at the 2 foot long essay that the professor had kindly assigned to be due the next day. Furthermore, I didn't even know what the essay was supposed to be _on_. Was it on the healing potion we were making? I was pretty sure it wasn't. The only people around me were Crabbe and Goyle, whom where competing on who could spit the furthest. I highly doubt they knew, either. Putting my things in my bag, I decided to pay Snape a visit. 

The corridors were empty as I walked briskly on to the Potions room. When I entered, Snape wasn't at his desk. Looking to my right, I noticed there had been a split in the wall, as if leading to a secret passageway. 

When I entered the "secret passageway", however, I wasn't too pleased with what I saw. As soon as I set foot in the room, Granger just _had_ to drop a vial of some potion. 

_End Malfoy's Point of View_

I stood there in complete shock as Malfoy stared back at me with his lip curled. 

"Well good evening to you too, Granger," he said. 

I stared at him, appalled. "You made me drop the potion!" I shrieked at him disbelievingly. 

"How did _I_ make you drop the potion? If I remember correctly, I stood right here while you let go of it," he replied calmly. 

"Well... you scared me!" 

Malfoy rolled his eyes and looked bored. "So why are you in here anyways? You know, I don't think there even exists a potion that can tame your bushy hair." 

"I'm not _here_ to tame my ... Oh God. I need to clean this up," I blabbered angrily, bending down to pick up my wand. "_Reparo_," I muttered. Nothing happened. 

"Why isn't it working?" I shrieked at him with panic, as if he was stopping the glass pieces from jumping back together. 

He closed his eyes in annoyance. Say, he looked better with his eyes closed. I mean, when I couldn't see those grey eyes ... Not as if I _stare_ at his eyes, but they were real nice. No, I will not think about his eyes. I'm not making any sense. Damn, I'm going fucking nuts. 

When I finally started seeing clearly again, I saw that Malfoy was bent down, picking up the glass pieces and gathering them in a bag to throw away. Oh boy, I was being helped by Malfoy. I felt light as I bent down across from him and began to do the same thing. 

My head was awfully close to his. 

"Ow, _dammit_," he growled as he lifted up his hand, examining his index finger. A tiny spot of blood was oozing out. He lifted up his head and whammed into my forehead in the process, causing me also to cut myself with the glass I was holding. 

"_Augh_! Why'd you do that?!" I groaned, rubbing my head with one hand and shaking the other bleeding hand. 

"_Well_," he said annoyed, "If you _really_ want to know, your frizzy hair made my nose itch, I cut myself with the glass, forgot _your_ head was _so_ close to mine, and I lifted up my head. It's not as if I enjoy bonking heads with you, Mudblood." 

"Oh, _do_ shut up, Ferret," I spat crossly, squeezing at my bleeding finger. 

"Make me," he snarled, getting in my face. 

"Okay," I breathed. The next thing you know, he was hunched down, twitching and whimpering with pain. If some idiot is bothering you, all you have to do is give him a swift kick you-know-where, and all is well. 

"F... f..._damn_ you, Granger!" he wheezed. 

He deserved it. I picked up the last few remaining pieces of glass and wandered around looking for a trash bin. 

Malfoy was sitting sullenly against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees and a deathly look in his eyes. 

Neither of us saw it, but the potion still spread across the floor was secretly mixing itself, secretly bonding the blood that was so carelessly dropped in it. 

When I turned around to do something about the spilt potion, I squeaked as I realized that ... it wasn't there anymore. I looked at Malfoy, who had stood up and was looking at the potions on the shelves. 

"Malfoy..." I said hoarsely, "The potion... where is the potion?" 

His eyes darted from the floor to where it was spilled and then to me. He shrugged and started walking out the door of the room. 

"Don't you care?" I said loudly, "What if something happened?" 

"Things happen everyday," he called back to me over his shoulder. 

_That dipshit_, I thought as I stooped down and walked out of the "secret room". It sealed itself as I exited. 

"Granger! I can't get out of here!" he yelled angrily. 

I snickered at the sight of him walking in place by the door. 

"Snape put a spell on this room, can't get out until 2 and a half hours is over," I called back to him. 

He cursed loudly and started to pace back and forth in front of the door. Moments passed. "And when's that?" he asked. 

The next hour passed with both of us silently sitting against the walls. 

*************************   
My apologies for the boring/bad writing... it was an experiment to write, though, so yes.   
Review, review, this time you get unicorn stickers. 


	3. C is for Collaboration

**Chapter 3 - C is for Collaboration**

There was a buzzing noise in the room, as if the cookies were done and the oven was proudly announcing its finished product. Not as if detention in the dungeons even remotely compared to cookies. But okay then. 

I looked up wearily at Malfoy. "I think the time is over," I muttered softly. 

He gave me a Look and wordlessly stood up. Propping himmself up, he smoothed out the invisible wrinkles on his robes. He headed towards the exit, and I solemnly followed suit. 

"So," I started. The silence was uncomfortable. 

"So," he replied. 

I reached the corridor for the Gryffindor dorms and my lips instinctively formed the word 'bye', but the sound did not escape. Malfoy wasn't the type one would exchange farewells with. He understood, and that's all that was neccessary. 

Snape strided towards his classroom. The time of Miss Granger's detention was over. She would be gone by now. He doubted she would be hanging around the potions room. Who would? A wave of - what was that - sadness? washed over him, and Snape quickly shook it off. 

He looked around. The room was relatively clean. From his robes, he produced a vial of his newly made potion - one that would quickly regrow lost fingernails. He walked briskly towards the hidden potions closet. It was hidden for a reason - inside held rare potions that he did not even have ancedotes for yet. With a tap of his wand, the walls slid open and he was greeted by the familiar site of his precious potions. 

But one was missing. Snape's most prized potion - _la potion chatoyante_ as he called it - appropriately named for its glamorous color. But the potion wasn't just for staring at. It had the ability to bond. He hoped Miss Granger hadn't cut herself and bled in the potion. Who knows what would have happened? 

&!&!&!&!&!&!&! _post hogwarts_ &!&!&!&!&!&! 

Before I knew it, I, Hermione Granger, was a Hogwarts graduate. 

I was hired by Fudge as his assistant - secretary to be specific. The pay was satisfactory; enough to equipt my flat with enough designer furniture to make it look like an IKEA model home. I'll admit it, it was snazzy. I was happy. I had no time to find a husband, because I put work as my priority. 

My job was to sit importantly in my plush leather chair, with my black horn-rimmed glasses. I occupied the window-framed office infront of Fudge's space. It was an endless day of helping Fudge make important decisions, and filling out his paperwork. 

It was the night of February 25, and it was raining. Hard. After the day's frustrating work, I was way too tired to use my beautiful silver kitchenware. I headed towards a snazzy new restaurant named Andria's. I pushed open the doors and shook off my umbrella. It was very crowded. Quite unusual, actually. The tables were all filled up. I felt another gust of wind behind me, but paid no attention, deciding not to take off my warm hood just yet. 

The well-dressed waitress walked towards me, also looking past my shoulder. 

"There are only 2 seats left," she announced. 

"So what's the problem?" I asked irritably. 

She stared at me. "The two seats are at the same table." She gestured towards a secluded corner, with just a candle lighting it up. A single red rose stood in a vase in the center. 

"Well it's fine, it's only me tonight." 

She stared at me as if I were stupid. "Miss - we are incredibly full today. There is a long waiting time, and I'm sure niether of you wants to wait." 

_What was the woman talking about?_ I turned around. A tall, slim man stood behind me, dressed in a black suit. He took his hat off. I almost choked on my gum. It was _Malfoy_. 

He smiled an evilish smile. "Why, hello, Granger." 

The waitress smiled cheerfully. "Wonderful! I see you two know eachother!" She chirped. Holding two menus in the air, she motioned for us to follow her. 

"But I got here before him!" I sputtered. 

The waitress didn't seem to hear. 

Malfoy mock sighed. "Guess we'll have to dine together, sadly." He didn't sound very sad at all. 

"I got here before you," I growled. 

"Too bad I'm the head of Stoneridge Inc., huh?" he said cheerfully, following the waitress. 

I gaped after him. Stoneridge Inc.? The most successful furniture company in the wizarding world? Every piece of furniture in my flat was from Stoneridge. Perhaps I should start thinking of selling them, if Malfoy was the head of it. I scowled. Anyways, I certainly wasn't going to starve tonight. Fuming, I stomped after him, causing a few old women to look disapprovingly at me. 

He seated himself and opened the menu. I sat angrily across from him. Didn't even pull my chair back and seat me, I noted. Very ungentlemanly. 

I opened the menu with such force I almost teared the pages. 

"Easy there," he snickered. 

I gave him a rude hand gesture. 

He just smirked. "Last time you did that, it got you detention, remember?" 

"Oh who could forget?" I said, rolling my eyes and frowning at the memory of the unpleasant event. 

He just smiled amiably. 

The waitress stopped by again. "Orders?" She smiled. 

"Deep fried halibut with scallops and boiled asparagus, s'il vous plait." He then rattled off about some fancy wine, and the waitress eagerly wrote everything down as if imagining every word to be galleons. 

She turned to me expectantly, her quill poised above her paper. 

"Um, the same thing, but instead of asparagus, give me red bell peppers," I said hastily. Malfoy liked the same thing as I, apparently. Except for asparagus, of course. That stuff was revolting. 

The waitress bounced away. 

"I happen to like asparagus," he said conversationally. 

"Asparagus is the main food of the spotted dinklemorfs," I began seriously, "And by taking it away from them, we are endangering them. Asparagus is hard to grow these days." 

He searched my face for a sign that I might be joking, but found none. He then burst out laughing. 

"You... _geek_!" he gasped. 

How offensive. 

I flushed and looked away annoyedly, waiting for my food to come. What does he know about spotted dinklemorfs anyway? 

**************************   
Aha, well that was fun to write. Lalala. There might be typos, I can't type on laptops very well. :( I'll be updating more actively now, I think, because post hogwarts is funner. 


	4. D is for Dinner

**Chapter 4 - D is for Dinner**

Rita Skeeter peered over her _Witch's Weekly_ at the two figures. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. What an interesting gathering. That tacky little brat Granger - what was she doing with the head of Stoneridge Inc.? This couldn't have been business. She'll just watch for now. 

A wave of relief washed over me as I saw the high black heels of the waitress clatter over to our table. Or - _my_ table. He was just sitting there. At least now I can stop pretending to be interested in the tablecloth. 

"Deep fried halibut, scallops, and asparagus for the monsieur," she said quirkily, setting down the steaming food in front of him. She produced 2 wine glasses and 2 bottles of expensive looking red wine. She cheerily announced my order and set it down. It was then that I realized I didn't even _order_ wine. 

"Um, sorry, but I didn't order wine," I said, motioning towards the bottle. 

"You said you wanted the same thing," the waitress smiled. 

"No, I meant the same entre, I didn't want the wine." I did not want to get drunk tonight. 

"No... the monsieur said deep-fried halibut, scallops, asparagus, and red wine, and _you_ said you wanted the same thing." 

"But not the wine!" I exclaimed exasperately. 

"Anyway," the waitress rolled her eyes. "No returns." She smiled. 

"What's the matter, Granger?" Malfoy quipped. "Can't afford it?" 

I glared at him with intense dislike. "I can afford anything you can," I said snottily. Okay maybe not. But whatever. 

"Oh really?" snorted Malfoy, with this 'oh-ho-ho' attitude. 

"Yes, really." 

"But not the wine, huh?" he smirked. 

The waitress was still standing there looking bored. 

"I'll _keep_ the wine," I snarled more at Malfoy than the waitress. 

"Okay, then!" she skipped away. 

"I _dare_ you to have a glass," said Malfoy sarcastically, noticing me edging away from the bottle. He began to daintily cut up his fish into little sections. 

"No." 

"What? Afraid to get drunk in front of me? I swear I won't do anything bad." He winked. 

I felt the urge to retch. I'd _kill_ him if he tried anything; I didn't know so many curses for nothing. 

Besides, it's not as if one glass could get me drunk anyways. I wouldn't know, I've never really drunk alcohol. 

"So, how is being Fudge's little assistant coming along?" He said 'little assistant' as if really meaning 'sleeping buddy' or something. 

"Fine," I replied stiffly. The room was getting awfully hot. Was I that bad of an alcohol intaker? Anyway, better refill my glass to cool down. 

"Business is good these days," he continued, now prodding at his scallops. 

I nodded and sipped at my wine. "How'd you get Stoneridge anyways? What happened to your father?" 

"Oh, he's dead," he said nonchalantly, as if talking about windsurfing or fishing. 

"Oh," I said, taken aback. 

"Yes, it belonged to my mother's grandfather, and now it's mine," he said. 

I nodded again and refilled my glass. How many was that, anyways? Couldn't be that much, I could still see the words on the wine label. 

"It's really hot," I chuckled, fanning myself with my hands. 

"you've only had - what - half the bottle. I see you don't drink much?" 

"No," I said airily. 

"Yeah, me niether," he replied, draining the last of his wine. His face was looking pretty red, also. 

"I'll go now," I slurred uncertainly. "Woo!" I laughed as I toppled back down on my seat. I felt preeeettty dizzy. 

Malfoy laughed loudly, even though it wasn't funny. A couple of old women glared at us. 

"Let's get some more to drink?" he suggested woozily. 

I started laughing hysterically at this. "No, _silly_, I don't want to get drunk!" I put my head on the table. 

Malfoy laughed and motioned for the waitress, who cheerily skipped over. He ordered something, but I didn't hear. She returned seconds later with a bottle of clear liquid. Yeah, I could use some water about now. Filling my glass to the top, I chugged some of it down. It burned. Okay it really burned. But whatever, it felt nice. 

I got up and walked dizzily towards the exit. Losing my balance, I flopped down on something warm. A cry of surprise was heard, and the old man I was sitting on looked quite angry. He was opening and closing his mouth, probably saying something, but I didn't hear. I was sitting on his lap, but I didn't care - or notice - for that matter. 

He was making funny faces at me now, I giggled and patted his head. Getting up, I somehow found myself back at my table. But not at the same seat. I was sitting on Malfoy's lap. The old man was standing up now, motioning towards me, I smiled goofily at Malfoy. 

"Hey," I murmured. 

"Hello," he said, and looked at his fork interestedly. 

Somehow, probably with some help, I got into a taxi and found myself back in my own bed. 

Rita Skeeter smirked triumphantly as she reviewed her photos of that night. The camera angle was perfect - it looked like Miss Granger was snogging the poor old man senseless - the man who - lucky for Rita - just happened to be Cornelius Fudge's brother. 

Right. So after two months or so, I found this again and decided to finish typing it up. Sorry to whoever reads my crap anyways (no one). :[ And please, please excuse typos or grammatical errors. 


	5. E is for Employment

**Chapter 5 - E is for Employment**

The elevator doors slid open and I smoothed down my skirt. Briefcase in one hand, coffee in the other, I marched down the hallway. And was greeted by stares. They ranged from astonished to disgusted to even admirative. I wonder what was stuck up their asses? 

I reached my office and shut the door. I almost jumped 5 feet in the air and spit out my coffee when I saw Fudge sitting in my chair, with a disgusted look on his face. 

"Er, good morning, minister," I stammered. _My, don't you look constipated this morning._

"My morning isn't so good anymore," he growled. He got up and paced back and forth. 

"What do you call _this_?" he chucked a newspaper at me. _An article, perhaps, darling boss?_ "Snogging - my - brother ..." His face turned redder with each word. 

_ Good Girl Turned Bad   
by Rita Skeeter _

Hogwarts graduate and secretary of Minister of Magic Hermione Granger shows her wild side. In an attempt to get attention in Andria's on the night of February 25, Granger sat on the lap of the Minister's brother, Phidallius Fudge. She then proceded to snog Fudge senseless, even with his protests. 

The article went on to describe how I was "planning the stunt for days". I was in utter shock. 

"This is _not_ the kind of attention I'm hoping for!" Fudge bellowed. 

"Minister - I - " _Calm your stupid ass down._

"How do you explain this?!" 

I could not stop staring at the picture she published. Hey, it really did look like I was snogging him. But I didn't do it. Right. When I woke up this morning, I didn't remember a freaking thing. Only entering Andria's... 

"Minister... I ... didn't... snog your brother... I don't see how big of a deal it is anyway..." I said faintly, still looking at Phidallius Fudge waving his arms around in the picture. 

"Aha! So now you admit you did!" Fudge now had a weird expression on his face, a mixture between triumph and anger. "Do you have any idea how embarassing this is?" his voice was now above a whisper. "How would you like your assistant snogging your brother on the front page of the daily prophet, especially when you're the Minister of effing magic?" 

"I swear sir, it's not as it seems, I would never - " 

"It's too late now, Miss Granger." He looked tired now. "You wouldn't understand, but, I'm going to have to let you go." 

omgwtf?! What's the big deal anyway? The bastard's overreacting! But let me _go_? As in _fire_ me? No. Effing. Way. 

"But _Minister_... can't I - " 

"I'm sorry, Hermione." He handed me a box and left, shutting the door behind him. Everyone was staring now. I gave them my most ferocious stare and even bared my teeth before they finally turned around. But they still occasionaly snuck peeks at me. 

Great! Wonderful. Apparently I had a smooching session with Phidallius Fudge, which made Cornelius Fudge eat something rotten and decide to fire me. Now I am unemployed. Woohoo. I threw my posessions into the box - random pictures, notebooks, and pretty models of magical creatures I had bought in Diagon Alley. Was I drunk or something? In my right mind, I would never smooch some random - and old, ech - man. Especially my boss' brother. Hah. I never drink alcohol anyway. 

I sadly finished packing my stuff. Maybe I could try to talk to Fudge...but he was talking to someone and looked like he couldn't be bothered. He didn't look like he was in the best of moods, either. I would wait for him to cool down, I decided, and come back later. 

I balanced my box on my hip and picked up my briefcase, managing to get out of my office. Not looking at anyone, I just reached the elevator when someone grabbed my arm. 

"Let me help you." 

I looked up. Marvin Medly. Possibly one of the most annoying guys ever to work at the ministry. Okay, he _follows_ me. I sit down to eat, and he's in the chair next to me the next second. I go to get coffee, and he's always there, ready to talk more about his cats. Perhaps I would be flattered in other cases, but Marvin - he's so... _short_? He has these boring brown eyes, pale skin, and strange poofy hair. 

"Er, thanks," I said, handing him my box. The elevator dinged and we stepped in. 

"Bertha died yesterday," Marvin began morosely. 

"I'm so sad for you..." I said quietly. I really was. Marvin wasn't my best friend, but Bertha, his oldest cat, was really special to him. He had her since she was born. 

"Yeah, well... she lived a nice life," Marvin choked. He kept rubbing his eyes, trying not to cry or something, and I stood there like an idiot, not knowing how to comfort a grieving cat-lover. So I gingerly patted his back, and he began to sob. Alarmed, I stopped patting him, and he suddenly engulfed me in a huge bear hug. With my box, too. It was awkward. 

The elevator doors opened, and people were staring at us - Marvin wouldn't let go. 

"Shh... shh... Marvin... let go... we're - here - " I tried to pry him off me. 

"Oh!" He promptly let go, flushed, and wiped his eyes. 

"Er, I think I'll floo home," I said, holding my arms out for my box. He didn't seem to understand, and took it as an invitation for a hug. Uh. I chuckled nervously, pried him off me again, and grabbed my box, and ran. "Thanks so much!" I called over my shoulder. 

Marvin beamed. "Dinner sometime?" he yelled after me. 

"Uh, dunno," I called back nervously, waiting in line for the fireplaces. 

"Great! I'll owl you." With that he turned around and went back in the elevator. 

Okay then. 

Within a few minutes, I was back at my flat. Throwing everything onto the floor, I flopped myself down on the leather sofa. The expensive, _Stoneridge_ leather sofa. The thought of Stoneridge made me think of Malfoy. He was the head, wasn't he? But how did I know? I haven't kept in touch with the git when we left Hogwarts. Oh well. I probably read it somewhere. 

I need to get my job back. Or get another job. Either one. Tomorrow, I would do it. But now - now I just needed to sleep. The throbbing headache from the morning returned again, as if from a hangover or something. 

Alright! I'm done again. No clue when I'll keep writing, but whatev. My head hurts. Meh. 


End file.
